Infectious Dreams A Sequel to Misused Genius
by kasviel
Summary: Sequel to my first story Misused GeniusBrilliant Minds. This basically follows the first story as Wesker's problems finally begin to work themselves out, and Birkin's problems start to show....Will they make it through their personal crisis' to meet their
1. Chapter 1

  
Author's Notes I love writing for Resident Evil. 'Brilliant Minds' was one of my best works ever. So, naturally, I wanted to write a sequel. I've only put it off because I want to be certain that I maintain the standard I set with the first story. I think it's a good time to write another story now, though. Resident Evil 0 is out, and Birkin and Wesker's duo appearance has sent my mind off into a million directions. So! Here is the sequel. Enjoy 

**Prologue: This Disease...**

For some years, the name 'Arklay' had been synonomous with peace. The deep, sprawling forest buried in the mid-west of the United States had been a haven for man and nature alike since before anyone could remember. The lush forests bred beautiful animal and plant life, a rare thing to find in this modern world, and attracted many human visitors who longed for a change from the rush of modern civilization. 

However, it would not always be this way. A time would come when the shadows of the looming mountain range would breed terror instead of serenity. It would be a terror thicker than the rocky peaks of the mountains, and colder than the air of the highest point. It would transform the forest from a retreat to a place to retreat from, a forest of nightmares that could only exist in a world where man dared to steal the power of God. 

That world is this world. As the second turn of the century looms in the near future, man will try to claim the power denied to them the day of their creation. Whether they are trying to claim the power to create or destroy is uncertain. But one thing is certain. They will succeed, and in their success they will fail. 

And that all began here, in the mountains of Arklay, when two years ago a pair of prodigys had been flown to the Spencer Mansion. Albert Wesker, 18 at the time, and William Birkin, a mere 16, had been employed by the pharmaceutical company Umbrella to conduct disease research. No, not to search for a cure, oddly enough, but to search for a disease. **The** disease, the ultimate bio-weapon creating infection, the T-Virus. 

Since Birkin and Wesker had come to the Spencer Mansion Research Facility, the experiments had progressed rapidly. It had been two years now, and they had reached Phase 2 of their research plan. Their first bio-weapon, the Zombie, was nearly complete. 

But not only death was progressing in the cold laboratories of Umbrella's mansion. Among the diseases, a very infectious one had taken both head researchers hostage. It had no physical effects on either one, for they still functioned and looked as always. In fact, they functioned much better due to the disease. It had strengthened them. 

The disease was love. 

Yes, young William Birkin and Albert Wesker had surrendered to their feelings for one another. Their common interest in death and destruction held them together quite well, and they each learned off of each other. Not to say they didn't have their competitions and arguments occasionally, but for the most part they were happy together. 

**Chapter One: Rivalry Brewing**

**December 24, 1980**

Albert Wesker did not have fond memories of Christmas Eve. Even at the age of nineteen now, the past still lingered vaguely in his mind. As he walked through the Grand Hall of the Spencer mansion alone, Wesker heaved a heavy sigh. He detested weakness. He loathed memories. Yet, he was helpless against them sometimes. True, he had grown much more mature in the past two years, but parts of him remained immature still. He wondered what it would take to break those parts into pieces. 

Wesker climbed the long, carpeted stairs of the Grand Hall to the second floor. He paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, gazing out the window at the snow covered balcony outside. It was in this spot two years ago that he had explained his past to Birkin. He'd confessed Spencer's raping him, his pain, his desire for revenge...and Birkin had knelt beside him as he crumbled...and comforted him. 

Wesker twitched as he recalled this. He frowned, caught between disguest at himself and love for Birkin. He did not blame or dislike Birkin for being his lover, but it was hard to feel so close to someone. Even then, he was very aware of the fact that he could lose Birkin at any turn of any day, or that they both may die eventually. The facts did not bother him, nor did the thought of losing Birkin. Was it wrong, he wondered, to not worry about such things? Did he _really_ love Birkin? 

Wesker slid his shades further up the bridge of his thin nose. He turned from the window and continuted to climb the second set of stairs to the second floor. No, it was not wrong to be apathetic towards the idea of death, it was practical. They were scientists heading Umbrella's research for the ultimate bio-weapon, it would be stupid to let love become fear. 

The world was changing, Wesker thought as he reached the second floor. It was going to be 1981 soon. In 19 more years, it would be the next century. In 20 more years, it would be the next millenium. This new world needed new power, and Wesker and Birkin were creating that power with their own hands. There was no love, no emotion at that, in the world that would justify throwing away such an opportunity. 

Wesker smirked as he walked the halls, his heavy boots clomping on the rugs. The ultimate bio-weapon. That was their goal, and it was a fantastic one. It meant holding the world's greatest power in their hands. But there was another goal Albert desired: revenge. 

Wesker glanced at a portrait in the hall as he made his way to his room. It was a portrait of an older man with a stern, evil face and inhuman eyes. Wesker frowned behind his sunglasses. 

The man in the portrait was Sir Ozwell Spencer, Umbrella's founder and the mansion's namesake. Yes, revenge, Wesker thought as the name ran through his mind. Spencer was the only person who had ever defiled the proud young man before, and since then he'd been determined to destroy Spencer and his company one day. 

But before revenge came knowledge. Spencer was playing everyone as marionettes, putting together pieces of a puzzle only he could decipher. Wesker tried every day he could to attain information about Spencer's ultimate plan, though it often felt he was running in circles. The facility, Wesker, Birkin, Umbrella...they were all products of Spencer's mind in a way, and they were all being led somewhere. 

Somewhere... 

Wesker clenched his fist. He had no idea where he was being led. To glory, to death, to both...only Spencer knew. But no, he _had_ to find out. He **would** find out. 

One day. 

Wesker sighed again. For now, it was him and Birkin and their research. Nothing more could be done. He had to be patient and forget Spencer for now. Otherwise, he'd lose focus and slip into whatever doom Spencer had waiting for him. 

Wesker finally reached his and Birkin's room. Research, he thought. It was all about the disease now, the weapon. Chirstmas Eve or not, he was going to resume his research immediately. 

Running a hand through his neat blond hair, Wesker opened the door and went inside. The moment he entered, his eyes fell on Birkin, who was standing before one of the desks in the room. Then, he noticed what was on the desk. As if a test to his plans to work, Birkin had set up a few bottles of wine and was burning two candles. There was even a fire lit in the fireplace. Wesker drew a breath. 

"What _is_ all this, Birkin?" he asked. 

"An anniversary, and Christmas Eve," Birkin replied. "I'm not fond of taking breaks, but let's relax just a little bit tonight." 

"No," Wesker said simply. He shut the door behind himself and walked over to his desk. Frowning slightly, he pushed aside the champagne and wine and glasses. 

"Well then, let's celebrate." Birkin stubbornly poured Wesker a glass of champagne and then one for himself. "To the completion of Phase 1." 

Wesker looked at him, seemingly at a loss. Birkin was never put off by his lack of enthuisiam, not even by his outright protesting. One thing Wesker had learned during the two years was that Birkin was equally cold in his own cheerful way. 

"Come on," Birkin prompted him. "Join me." 

"Birkin, I said--" 

Birkin put the glass in Wesker's hand and then raised Wesker's arm. 

"To the completion of Phase 1," Birkin said cheerfully for both of them. He released Wesker and then drank his own glass. 

"..." Wesker downed his glass. Birkin's bossy attitude annoyed him sometimes. Occasionally, it became unclear exactly which of them was in charge. 

"There, we had a toast," Wesker said now. "Can I resume my work?" He turned his back on Birkin and went back to their research papers. 

Birkin just smiled at Wesker's coldness, which he found amusing. He put down his glass of champagne and watched his partner for a moment. He was quiet just long enough to let Wesker think that he planned to leave him alone. Then, he put his hands on Wesker's shoulders. Wesker tensed, raising his head slightly for a moment, and then resumed ignoring Birkin. William went on to massage Wesker's shoulders. 

"Birkin, I really wish you would **stop doing that**," Wesker finally said. 

"Why?" Birkin asked innocently. "Does it unnerve you?" 

"Yes." 

"Ah, I see." Birkin leaned his face down until it was beside Wesker's ear. "You're getting warm, aren't you?" 

"Shut up." Wesker turned his face. "I regret the day I ever let you kiss me." 

"Why? We're a perfect match, don't you think?" Birkin whispered into Wesker's ear. "We're both young and cold and ambitious. We'd both sacrifice anything to achieve our goals. We're both separated from the rest of the world by our genius. It's only natural for two such people to fall in love." 

"Love is avery unscientific word," Wesker replied. 

"I only mean it in the loosest sense possible," Birkin explained. "We both appreciate each other, and we're chemically attracted to one another, but neither of us would die for the other. Nor would we think twice about sacrificing the other should we have to." 

"And you still think it qualifies as love?" 

"To some extent." Birkin bit Wesker's ear. 

Wesker turned to him, staring at the younger man through his shades. For a moment he pondered whether Birkin's coldness was an act or not. Then, he caught the look in the young man's eyes. No, it was not an act. He was as icy and practical as Wesker was, if not more derranged. Wesker decided right then that he would have to never take his eyes off this junior mad scientist. He had underestimated him once before, but never again. 

"And that doesn't bother or scare you?" Wesker asked. "That I may turn on you any moment? That I may take your life one day?" 

"No. I don't see either thing happening," Birkin said. "My goal is to complete my disease. Your goal is the ultimate bio-weapon, and Spencer. I doubt our ideals will ever conflict. Even if they do, I would never have any reason to go against you, nor the desire." 

"Because we're lovers?" 

"Because it would be unnecessary conflict." Birkin put his legs around Wesker's waist, sitting on his lap in the chair. He ran his hands through Wesker's blond hair. "As long as you never think of going against me, I will not go against you." He kissed Wesker smoothly. "...And if you do...I will kill you." He kissed him again. 

"...Not if I kill you first," Wesker replied after the kiss. He played with Birkin's fine hair for a moment, puzzling over the cold youth in his arms. 

Birkin just laughed. "That will never happen." 

He kissed Wesker again. As he pressed Birkin's face closer to his own, Wesker wondered why Birkin said such a thing. He sounded so sure, but how could he be? No one could tell the future. 

"I would make myself a Zombie sooner than I'd let anyone kill me," Birkin elaborated as he pulled out of the kiss. "If I am destined to die, it will not be alone." He laughed again, kissing Wesker briefly. "...No, Albert. If I die it will be on my own terms." 

Wesker stood up with Birkin wrapped around him. William kept his legs around Wesker's waist, and buried his face in Wesker's neck, all his reddish blond hair falling over his young face. 

"You are a mad scientist, William Birkin," was all Wesker told him. 

"And here I was thinking only commoners mistook genius for insanity," Birkin laughed. "It's an ignorant thing for you to say, Albert." 

Wesker lay Birkin down on the bed. Birkin stared up at him with a crazy happy look in his eyes. He put his arms around Wesker's neck as Wesker climbed over him. 

"You're calling me ignorant?" Wesker asked. 

"You did call me crazy." 

"...You think you're smarter than I am, don't you?" Wesker asked. He'd never thought to ask before, but he had always suspected just that. Birkin admired Wesker's practicality and coldness, but his intelligence did not seem to impress the youth. 

Birkin just laughed. He slid Wesker's sunglasses off and bit one side of them. His eyes glinted in the candlelight, but reflected no emotion, just eagerness and evil. He traced the contours of Wesker's face with one finger. 

"You are brilliant, Wesker, brilliant," he said. "Didn't I say we were both genius?" 

"But you think that you're the more intelligent of us, don't you?" Wesker insisted. 

"I think..." Birkin kissed him. "...you are paranoid." 

Wesker decided to leave it at that. Birkin was clearly not planning on answering his questions. This led Wesker to believe that the youth truly did consider himself to be the smartest. Wesker kissed him roughly. 

Birkin could tell Wesker was a little irritated, but he didn't care much. He enjoyed seeing how Wesker reacted to different things, almost as if Wesker was a research project himself. It was one of the problems with being so intelligent, Birkin could never stop analyzing anything or anyone. Even if he tried, he would never be able to not take in and ponder every little detail of anyone around him. It was one of the things that had made it impossible for him to have friends in school or even get along with his family; as long as he was scrutinizing everyone, no one could impress him very much. 

Except for Wesker, of course. William respected him as nearly equal intellectually, and superior in regards to emotion and boldness. He was cruel and inhuman. Thus, out of everyone he'd ever met, William was able to see Wesker as an equal, and accept him as a lover. 

William lay his head back now, staring at the ceiling. His clothes had been torn off by now, and the warmth of the room sank into his entire body. Outside, the wind could be heard howling throughout the premises. 

Wesker was smirking down at him, William could _feel_ his smug gaze. He did not care if Birkin cried out. He took great pleasure in seeing Birkin squirm and writhe in his arms. Tonight, he was more ruthless than usual. But William didn't mind. He enjoyed being at the mercy of someone who was merciless. It would be stupid, he thought, to give himself to someone beneath his self-set standards. Nor did he want to go through the trouble of using someone for physical pleasure. Wesker did not set up a ridiculous process of dating and talking to last for months. He was aware of how useless most emotions were, and knew how to simply enjoy whatever he did feel. And he understood why Birkin did the same. 

They were truly a perfect match. 

Wesker and William became a tangle of legs and arms on the bed. Birkin's cries were muffled by Wesker, who had a hand pressed to his mouth tightly. Yet even with the youth being silenced, they were being heard...and watched. 

Far away, back in Racoon City's Umbrella building, Sir Ozwell Spencer was watching the two boys on a monitor. There was a smirk on his face, and his eyes were intent. He ran a hand over the image of the two on the screen. 

"How happy you seem, Albert," he murmured, "with your little toy Birkin. But we both know how discontent you must be. It has been two years, and your life remains on a plateau even as your research progresses. For all you know, you know nothing." 

Spencer sipped a glass of wine. 

"And now this small competition from Birkin," he said. "Birkin, he thinks he posesses superior intelligece. That will eat away at you from now on, Albert, even as you enjoy his body." 

Then, another voice spoke from the shadows. 

"Sir, are you implying that you would want them to fight?" 

Spencer replied without taking his eyes off the monitor. "They have been rivals since the day they met. It is only natural for two egos such as theirs to clash occasionally. And that is fine." He sipped his wine again. "As long as they are competing, they will progress rapidly. Besides, with the confusion a love/hate relationship will cause Albert, he will soon come back to me of his own free will." 

"Do you really want him around?" asked the other person. "Asking questions?" 

"His questions will never be answered," replied Spencer. "With Albert trying to complete his research, keep an eye on Birkin, and figure me out, he will be too busy to really notice any of my plans, even if they are being orchestrated before his very eyes. You see, Wesley?" 

The man stepped from out of the shadows. He was one of the Spencer Mansion's oldest staff members, Wesley Smithe. He'd hated Wesker and Birkin since the day they'd met, especially Wesker. Now, he smiled. 

"I see," he said. "You will keep Wesker so confused that he will never be able to accomplish more than he has to. While his professional life will always remain intact, and we will use it for our own benefit, his personal life will be too muddled for him to act on his suspicions of you." 

"Exactly," Spencer said. "So, if you would not mind fueling the fire, Wesley..." 

"Of course not, sir," Wesley said. "Regardless of their silly sex games behind the scenes...their rivalry will soon take center stage." 

"I would appreciate it if it did, Wesley." Spencer nodded. "Besides, Wesker and Birkin will very soon be faced with a period of no advancement. I wouldn't want Wesker to get bored while Birkin is useless." 

"Useless?" 

"Do not expect much progress in the research this summer," Spencer replied. "They are moving much too fast. We are going to slow them down a bit." 

"But sir..." 

"It is now time to focus on our Antartic facility," Spencer cut him off. "And we shall very soon." 

"And the Spencer Mansion? Wesker and Birkin?" 

"They will be dormant for a while," Spencer said. "During that time, I will enjoy playing with Albert." 

"I see, sir." Wesley turned to the camera, glaring at Wesker. He smirked, thinking of how Spencer was playing the young man. It didn't matter how cocky the boy was, he thought, Spencer always had the upper hand. 

**End of Chapter One**


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's Notes Coming along well so far. God, that Spencer is one evil bastard. So is Wesley, but I have special plans for him, heh heh.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Love and Competition**

**January 3, 1981**

Some time passed as normal. Today, Wesker woke up to a persistent tugging of his arm. He opened his blue eyes sleepily. Birkin was standing over him, wearing only his long, white lab coat. He looked very cute, but Wesker just frowned. 

"Birkin, what _is_ it?" he grumbled. 

"We slept in, and we have testing to do very soon," the young scientist replied. "Get up. We'll only make it if we both get dressed at the same time." 

"Damn." 

Wesker stumbled out of bed, stretching. His jeans hung dangerously low on his otherwise bare, tall body. As he stretched his arms, Birkin put a hand on his strong chest. Wesker gave him a look. 

"Just thinking that it is a pity you're so important, you'd make an excellent test subject," Birkin said with a smile. 

"Get the hell away from me!" Wesker snapped, a bit freaked by the comment. He grabbed Birkin by the arm and flung him to the side. 

Birkin stumbled in his oversized lab coat, grinning. "Well, you would." 

"Don't be a brat." 

Wesker went into the bathroom, and Birkin followed him inside. 

"What are you doing?" Wesker asked. 

"I said we had to get ready together, didn't I?" Birkin replied. He turned on the shower. "I'm not going to wait until you take a shower for mine." 

"You are such a pest," Wesker said testily. He slid his pants off and climbed into the shower. He then reached over and grabbed William by the arm, pulling him close. He took Birkin's lab coat off and pulled the youth into the shower. "Don't you ever stop wearing that damn coat?" he asked. 

"I'm a scientist, I feel about that coat the way a devout Catholic feels about a cross," Birkin replied. 

"It doesn't even fit," Wesker pointed out. He put a hand on Birkin's head. "You've barely grown since we came here two years ago." 

"It doesn't fit because I am Umbrella's youngest employee," Birkin bragged. "I was born a genius, I'm used to filling shoes that aren't supposed to fit someone my age." 

"That's you, Birkin, a regular prodigy," Wesker said testily. 

"Modesty is for the meek," Birkin said with a smirk. "So, yes, I am a prodigy." 

Wesker suddenly slammed him against the wall. He glared at Birkin through the water that was streaming down his face and the steam that was rising. Birkin just grinned his manic grin, his wet hair nearly covering his eyes. 

"You are a brat," Wesker told him. "Your arrogance won't suit you well when you taste defeat for the first time, you know." 

"Who will defeat me?" Birkin asked. "You? Spencer? I think not." He pushed past Wesker, running a soap bar over his thin body. "I am unmatched. Spencer said it himself, that I am Umbrella's youngest and brightest employee. Defeat, you say? It will not happen." 

Wesker narrowed his eyes. Birkin's overconfidance was becoming unbearable. He leaned over William's shoulder. "Be careful that it doesn't, William," he hissed. 

With that, he gave Birkin a small shove and climbed out of the shower. Birkin glanced at him, but said nothing. He finished bathing quickly and climbed out next. Wesker was already dressed. 

"You're edgy lately," William told him. 

"You're annoying lately," Wesker replied. "I liked you better when you were quiet and kept your eyes on your research." 

"Ah, I understand now," Birkin said suddenly. "While I enjoy being with an equal, you detest it. You would like me better to be a little weaker than you. You don't like the challenge of a full equal." 

Wesker turned to him. "As long as you're the one on your stomach at night, you are not my equal," he said. "So stop letting everything go to your little genius head." He poked Birkin's forehead. 

"Well, you have a point...although things could change." 

Wesker looked at him, taken off guard. Birkin smirked. 

"...You make too much of yourself, brat," Wesker finally said. He finished buttoning his shirt and put on his sunglasses. "If things change, it will be you screaming louder." 

Birkin blushed a little. Wesker gave him a swat on the bottom and left the bathroom. William hurriedly pulled on his clothes, and then very carefully put on his precious lab coat. He ran his hands through his hair and ran out. Wesker was already leaving the bedroom. William stumbled after him. 

Wesker smiled a little as he walked out into the halls. William really was cute. He was young and beautiful and confident, but he always had the appearance of a tag along child when he was with Wesker. That almost babyish grin that was always on his face, those big bright eyes...he really was cute. 

Wesker suddenly stopped walking and caught Birkin with a deep kiss. Birkin stumbled and began to fall backwards, but Wesker put an arm around his waist and held him on his feet. He voraciously kissed Birkin for a very long moment, and finally released him. When he did, Birkin was breathless; he was so breathless, in fact, that he fell onto Wesker, clinging to his arm. 

"W-Wesker," Birkin breathed, "wh...why suddenly...so affectionate?" 

"You're annoying, but..." Wesker took Birkin's face in his hand. "Right now...you look sort of cute." 

He kissed Birkin again and then shoved him away. He continued down the hall and a very redfaced Birkin ran after him. 

"You've never called me that before," William said. "In fact, you have never commented on my looks before." 

"There hasn't been any need to." 

"But I am cute?" 

"Yes. Sometimes." 

Birkin pondered this. Then, he laughed. 

"So, I am good looking _and_ brilliant!" he said happily. 

"And annoying. And crazy," Wesker added. 

"And so are you, all those things," Birkin replied. "We're so alike..." 

"And so different," Wesker said. 

"We're a perfect team." Birkin grabbed onto Wesker's arm. "Right?" 

"...Whatever you say, you're the genius." 

"You're right, I am." 

They turned the corner and entered the main hall. To their displeasure, old Wesley was waiting for them. Wesker's jaw tensed. Birkin only held onto Wesker more tightly; he did not mind if anyone saw them together. 

"We've been waiting for you two," Wesley told them. "I'm sorry if you haven't had a chance to eat yet, but we must begin testing immediately." 

Wesker ignored him, passing the old man by without a word. Birkin glanced up at Wesley as he passed, holding onto Wesker, but said nothing. Wesley just followed them. 

"Something is different about him today," Birkin said quietly to Wesker. 

"Who cares? An old man is an old man," Wesker said, not bothering to keep his voice down. 

"...He's smug, like he has the upper hand," Birkin replied. "It's unnerving." 

Wesker looked down at Birkin, who seemed genuinely worried. Then, he glanced back at Wesley. Of course, Birkin was right. The man did seem less annoyed than usual. Wesker frowned. The only reason Wesley would not be bothered by Wesker's rudeness would have to be that he had something on him. 

"You're right," Wesker quietly told Birkin. "I'll keep an eye on him. You do the same." 

"Of course." 

The three made their way down the stairs to the first floor. 

"Our goal this time will be to finalize the report on the T-Virus," Wesley said as they made their way down to the labs in the basement. "We are testing a group of fifty people. We will need to affirm the virus' flaws, affects on the DNA and RNA structures in the targets, and whatever other properties it may have." 

"Then, we begin Phase 2," Birkin said. "We will have to iron out the details of the virus and perfect it. It is still very unstable, and imperfect." He lifted up a page of coding and symbols. "See?" 

Wesker glanced at the paper. As bright as he was, he barely understood it. Although a great scientist and researcher, Wesker was not as good as Birkin, who knew such things like the back of his hand. 

"Ah. I see," Wesley said. 

He went on to state the problems with the genetic makeup and nature of the virus with perfect knowledge on the subject. Birkin easily followed and replied. Wesker grew silent. He knew his limits as a researcher. Still, it was irritating to think that Wesley knew more on the subject than he did. He quickened his pace and strode ahead of Birkin and Wesley. 

"Does he really know what he is doing?" Wesley asked Birkin now. 

"Hm? Wesker? Yes, of course he does," William replied, growing defensive. 

"Not when it comes to the technical end of things, am I right?" Wesley said. 

"He is...more suited to handling the practical part of our research, and coming up with theories," Birkin said slowly. "But he is still a great researcher." 

"Not as great as you." 

"Few are." Birkin smiled a little. "But neither Wesker nor I would be accomplishing so much without the other." 

"That is not true," Wesley said. "Think about it, William. If Wesker were to die right now, what would you do? Crumble? End your research? Of course not. You would carry on as usual, progressing rapidly." 

Birkin was quiet. There was truth in the old man's words. He loved Wesker, but above all he loved his work. No, no one's death could ever put an end to his research, not even Wesker's. He hated to admit it, but...he did not need Wesker. 

"You don't need him," Wesley said, echoing his thoughts, "but he needs you. Look at him. On his own, he'd have become some mercenary or goverment agent, not a scientist. He _isn't_ a scientist. He is only feeding off of your research." 

"If he were useless, Spencer would not have sent him here," Birkin replied. 

"He is not completely useless...but he is not nearly as valuable as you are." 

"...I will not argue that," Birkin said. 

"So, why is he the one in charge of everything?" Wesley pointed. "Look at him. He always takes the lead, doesn't he? He always tells everyone what to do. He always tells _you_ what to do. Why should he? You're the one who is keeping this facility and its research alive, not him." 

Birkin fell silent, thinking about this. No matter how he looked at it, Wesley did have a point. Wesker had warned Birkin earlier to be careful his confidence wasn't broken by defeat...but perhaps it was Wesker who should be careful. Perhaps it was Wesker who was too confident. 

The three reached the laboratory in the basement. There was a long hall of observation cells. A few of them were filled with Zombies from previous experiments, all of them scratching at the glass walls of their cells and moaning. 

The Zombie was the first bio-weapon Birkin and Wesker had created. It was a product of the T-Virus. The virus would infect a human and then manipulate its DNA, dehabilitating it almost completely but leaving it able to infect others. Intelligence would be destroyed, and the body would rot horribly, but the organism itself would be less prone to death. It would feel insatiable hunger and try to feed on anything, thus biting and infecting other humans. It was an efficient bio-weapon. 

Wesker looked in at the Zombies, their blank, long suffering eyes gazing back at him. 

No, they were imperfect still, Wesker thought. Though they would efficiently spread the virus, there was not a 100 chance of the virus being spread to every single human. In any group of people, it was believe that only 90 would be infected with the virus. Besides, the Zombie was not immortal. It could be killed fairly easily with a few powerful gun shots. On top of this, Zombies would frequently eat each other. No, they were definitely not the "100 killing bio-weapon" that Spencer was searching for. 

They passed a few cells with healthy, if sedated, people: the new test subjects. Then, the group entered the observation room behind the holding cells. Birkin then went through a door and entered the cell with the chained subjects, syringe in hand. Though he'd been slightly hesitant about this process at first, he'd grown quite accustomed to it over the years. 

Wesker watched quietly as Birkin injected one of the subjects. Spencer was searching for the ultimate biological weapon...but why? It was a question that nagged him relentlessly. Was it that Spencer wanted to be the world's leading source of bio-weaponry and make money? No, it couldn't be for profit. The T-Virus, imperfect as it was, could already be cold for a fantastic amount of money to any country. Spencer was losing more money than he was making. His goal had to be...personal...but what could it be? 

Wesker shook his head. But that did not matter now. His goal right now was to make this perfect weapon. He had no time to worry about Spencer. 

Birkin got back soon. He ran his hands through his hair. "I wish this virus would act quicker," he said, jotting that down on a notepad. "We'll have to wait a few days for the virus to take over the body and DNA structure..." 

"We have time," Wesker said. 

"Hm. But we should work on it," Birkin said. "Don't you think?" 

"Er, I suppose," Wesker said. 

"What do you sound so hesitant?" Birkin asked. 

"He has no idea what to change," Wesley spoke up. He looked at Wesker. "Do you?" 

Both William and Wesley looked at Wesker. Wesker's ears turned pink. 

"Of course I do," he lied. "But I don't think we should focus on that aspect of the virus just yet. Once the virus produces the results we want, then we'll make it more potent." 

"You're right," Birkin agreed. "We need to enhance the virus' effects first." He stretched. "But before that, we need to eat. I'm starving." 

"Let's go," Wesker said. "There's nothing more to do here." He turned to Wesley. "Smithe can monitor the initial reactions to the virus." 

Wesley frowned, but said nothing. 

"Right," Birkin said. 

They left the old man alone and headed to the dining hall. 

"That was a cold thing to do," Birkin chuckled, "since there really aren't going to be any initial reactions to monitor for at least a day." 

"Good," Wesker said. "I hate that old man. He's too close to Spencer." 

Birkin studied Wesker's face for a moment. "You...still really hate Spencer, don't you?" he then asked slowly. 

"Of course I do," Wesker replied. "Can you blame me?" 

"I don't blame you." 

Wesker was quiet for a moment as they continued down the hall. Now that he thought about it, Birkin rarely spoke of Spencer. Two years ago, he'd stood up to Umbrella's leader for Wesker's sake, but since then he'd remained neutral. 

"Aren't you curious, Birkin?" Wesker asked him. "Don't you want to know what Spencer is thinking?" 

"What Spencer is thinking?" echoed Birkin. He thought for a moment. "Well...no." 

"No?" Wesker looked down at him in alarm. "You don't even wonder?" 

"I don't like Spencer, but...I am able to work because of him," William said slowly. "I'm not usually one to question why I have what I have." 

"...You're right, I suppose," Wesker said after a pause. "It's not your vendetta. There's no reason for you to try and take part in it." 

"But I will say...be careful, Albert," Birkin said, looking up at him. "Spencer knows your plans, I'm sure. I'm also certain he knows how much you know and don't know, and how to take you down in an instant. I'll never interfere in your plans, of course, but...be careful." 

"I'm always careful," Wesker said. "Always." 

"That's good." Birkin put an arm around Wesker's shoulders. "Wouldn't want to lose you, Al." 

Wesker twitched. "Don't call me that. And I thought you said you didn't care if I died?" 

"It wouldn't affect my work or mental state too much, but that doesn't mean I _want_ you to die," Birkin replied. "I want you to live, Wesker, you know that." 

Wesker just smiled slightly and tousled Birkin's hair. In all honesty, he could not say that he 'knew,' as Birkin had said. He really didn't know much about Birkin. He knew the boy was cold, but he had no idea how cold he could be. He didn't know what had made him the way he was, or anything about his past. 

They reached the dining hall and Wesker called to the staff to get them something to eat. Birkin smiled nervously at them and nodded. The staff, grumbling, went to get their meals. Soon, they were eating. 

"Birkin." 

"Hm?" Birkin looked up at Wesker while popping a forkful of food into his mouth. 

"Why did you come to work for Umbrella?" Wesker asked curiously. 

Birkin looked at him. "Why? Well...where else was I going to get funding at my age?" 

"You've always been interested in genetic disease research?" Wesker asked. "Even before 16?" 

"Well, not genetic disease research per say..." Birkin paused as he took a sip of orange juice. "...But I have always found disease itself to be a fascinating subject. The way something so small, invisible to the naked eye even, like a germ can attach onto an organism and become part of it, and then even manipulate it. It's incredibly interesting, don't you think?" 

"I suppose." Wesker speared a sausage with his fork. 

"That isn't what you're really interested in, is it?" Birkin said knowingly. 

"Well, I'm more after the power that can be tapped from it," Wesker explained. "Like you said, these diseases we're working on are invisible to the naked eye, and they hold immense power. If we become Umbrella's leading researchers on these bio-weapons, we'll hold the top source of bio-weaponry in the world in our hands." 

"Sounds like you want money," Birkin observed. 

"Doesn't everyone?" 

"I just want to study," Birkin said. "Rather, I _have_ to study. I'd never be content not following these things. I've been that way since I was a kid, I believe. I can't stand unanswered questions." 

"You'll work forever with that train of thought," Wesker said, a bit amused, "but I guess you'll be happy. As for me, I always do have to be working on something, but it's usually obtaining power or going against someone or gathering information. I like research, but...I suppose I see it more as a tool to get what I want rather than as a way of life. And I do want money." Wesker smiled a little. "As much money as possible." 

"Money and power...you're a little more typical than I thought," Birkin commented. 

Wesker looked at him. "Typical? Don't be a brat." 

"I don't mean to offend..." 

"You don't mean to praise, either." Wesker frowned. "Stop looking down on me, Birkin." 

"I'm not! I mean, what person doesn't want money and power?" 

"You don't," Wesker said, "and you think that makes you better than me." 

"I didn't say..." 

"You implied it." 

There was an icy silence. Birkin put his eyes on his research papers again and ignored Wesker completely. Wesker, angry, turned his mind to other matters. Eventually, it turned to Spencer. 

Spencer had not come by the mansion for a while now, probably since last summer. Even when he had come by, he was always nothing short of professional and brief. He still watched Wesker very closely, but he never spoke with him alone. He was drifting away, Wesker realized. Whether this was good or bad, the young man had yet to decide. 

Wesker tightened his fist. He did not miss Spencer's abuse. Sleeping with him had always been all but unbearable due to the memories of the rape it stirred. Wesker would never miss that aspect of their relationship. 

However, having a sexual affair with Spencer had been the only way Wesker was able to interract with him directly. Though Spencer never gave away much of himself, it had given Wesker a chance to survey him and speak with him. It was the only way Wesker had ever known a tiny bit of what Spencer might be thinking. As things were now, he was completely clueless. 

Finished eating, Wesker stood and left the dining hall without a word to Birkin. He took out a cigarrette as he entered the Grand Hall. Through the windows, he could see a light snow falling on the bright, gray day. He buttoned his white shirt a little more and then left the mansion. 

Outside, the sky was as white as the snow falling from it. The wind was stirring the surrounding forest gently, and throwing the snowflakes towards the mansion. It was cold in the moutains, bitterly cold, but Wesker did not mind. The tall man strode through the cold, lighting a cigarrette. 

Wesker wondered how many years of his life would be spent in this cold, isolated facility. He did not mind being separated from the outside world at all, but such solitude did give one too much time to think. In the past two years, there had not been even one chance to lose himself in a busy crowd or defeat the mansion's frequent silent periods. Life was a cycle that never changed much. Though used to a lonely existance, he had to wonder...how long would he be in this web spun by Umbrella? 

The other scientists all had their own ways of dealing with the loneliness, Wesker had noticed by now. They often held card games together and gambled, sometimes drinking and smoking as well. Radios were popular in the facility, through which the staff could hear of the outside world and drown their problems and loneliness with music. Every day, Wesker would pass at least one person intently writing a letter to a loved one. Some phoned home every day. It was all ridiculous, Wesker thought. They were no better than the Zombies tapping and scratching the windows in the observation rooms, trying forever futilly to touch a world they could only gaze at. 

As for Birkin and himself, they had each other. Sex was a natural way to release emotion and forget stress, Birkin would often say. Wesker agreed. It was a way to feel not so alone...and enjoy nights that would otherwise be spent lying in bed thinking. 

Even if it was with that annoying kid Birkin. 

Wesker exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air and mixed with smoke from his cigarrette. He turned his face to the sky, his eyes troubled beneath the sunglasses. 

There were not many women in the facility at all. Besides, women were fragile creatures that required attention and love and stability. Wesker was not about to put all that into a relationship just for some pleasure. But Birkin had come to him more or less on his own, and was not very demanding at all. True, he could be annoying, but any person was bound to have their own set of irritating behaviors. 

Wesker shook his head, realizing that his mind had returned to Birkin once again. As much as he hated to admit it, he really did prefer being with Birkin rather than being alone. Was it love? He didn't know or care; he just knew that he was glad that he'd met the young scientist. 

Meanwhile, inside, Wesley had happened upon Birkin in the dining hall. Birkin had finished eating, but was caught up in his notes. 

"Busy, William?" Wesley inquired. 

"Hm? Yes," Birkin replied distractedly. 

"Wesker isn't around, is he?" 

Birkin lifted his eyes from the papers for a moment and looked around. Then, he turned his gaze down again. "No, he left," he muttered. 

"Got angry, did he?" Wesley guessed. "Because you said the truth? Because you let him know you are more advanced than he is?" 

Birkin shuffled his papers together and stood. He glanced at Wesley, and began to leave. 

"Going after him?" Wesley guessed. "And why should you? Is that the way you really want it, William? Do you always want to be the one running after him?" 

Birkin stopped for a moment. "..." 

"_He_ should be coming back to _you_," Wesley told him. "Without you, he's nothing, yet you beg him to stay with you? You could do anything you want to him, and he'd always come back. He needs you, Birkin." 

"So I should what?" Birkin turned to Wesley. "Take advantage of that? I have no need to." 

"Forget needs, what do you _want_?" Wesley asked. "To always be 'the kid'?" 

"I'm not a kid," Birkin said. 

"He treats you like one, though," Wesley pointed out. "Just because he's a measley two years older than you, he expects you to be the tag along. And regardless of your importance, you tag along." 

Birkin lowered his eyes. 

"But it's none of my business," Wesley said with a shrug. "I suppose you just like playing the adult/child game." 

Birkin clenched his fist. He turned quickly and left the dining hall and Wesley. In the Grand Hall, he stopped walking. He had heard the doors open and Wesker go out. He had been planning to follow him, but now something stopped him. Wesley's words were still in his mind. 

It was true...every time they had an argument, Birkin was the one to apologize or go to Wesker. It did seem a bit of an immature thing to do, now that he thought about. Maybe...just this once...he should see if Wesker would do the same. Yes, let Wesker come to him for a change. 

Birkin turned from the doors to the mansion and jogged up the main stairs. And if Wesker did not try and reconcile with him, then they'd both simply have to find a new way to entertain themselves.

* * *

After a ten minute smoke outside, Wesker was surprised that Birkin had not come after him. However, he chalked it up to the fact that Birkin probably didn't know where he was. Thus, he put out his cigarrette and headed back inside. All his blond hair had fallen from the moisture of the snow by now, and he had to take his sunglasses off and clean them with his shirt. As he did this, he briskly walked up the stairs to the second floor. 

When he got to the room he shared with Birkin, he found William glued to his microscope as usual. Birkin ignored Wesker, although Wesker knew he'd heard the door open. Wondering if he was ignoring him deliberately, Wesker shut the door loudly. Still, William said nothing. 

Wesker crossed his arms and watched Birkin. As cute as he was, with his blond hair falling over his face and his mouth set in a line, he was getting increasingly irksome. Now he wasn't even apologizing or trying to make things right. Wesker mused with the idea of just grabbing him and giving him a kiss, but he decided to test Birkin and see how far he'd take this. 

Much of the morning passed. Wesker and Birkin resumed their research individually, neither saying a word to the other. They were both very stubborn young men. Now it was lunchtime. 

"All right. I give up." 

Birkin turned away from his microscope and looked at Wesker. He blinked his eyes a few times, still squinting a little. Was Wesker actually going to apologize for once? 

"If you're not going to apologize," Wesker said, standing, "then I'll apologize for you." He went over to Birkin, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him a little. " 'Wesker, I am so sorry for acting like a stuck-up brat and insulting you'," Wesker said, mimicking Birkin's youthful, eager voice. 

"Wesker, that is not funny," Birkin sighed. "Stop calling me a brat." 

"I didn't. You just called yourself one. Now." Wesker lifted Birkin to his feet. "Let's go eat." 

"You really think I'm a kid, don't you?" Birkin asked moodily. 

"It's your own fault for being Umbrella's youngest genius," Wesker told him, leading him towards the door. "So young and so brilliant...and so cute." Wesker nuzzled his face in Birkin's neck to annoy him. "How can I not see you as a child?" 

"Cut it out." Birkin frowned. "Just because I am young doesn't give you the right to patronize me like this, and--" 

Wesker grabbed Birkin's face by the chin and brought it up to his own. He kissed Birkin pressingly. 

"Mmph...Wesker," Birkin gasped when he was released. He exhaled, at a loss. "Wesker..." 

"I take that as a declaration of defeat," Wesker said triumphantly. He took Birkin by the hand and dragged him into the hall. "Now let's get _going_." 

"You're so...commanding," Birkin sighed. 

"I know." 

"...Maybe you would have ended up a mercenary if it weren't for me," Birkin muttered. 

Wesker punched his shoulder hard. "Shut up, Birkin." 

Birkin rubbed the back of his neck nervously, but said nothing. Wesker continued tugging him along. Soon, they were back in the dining hall. Happily annoying the staff, Wesker demanded food. 

"...Why did you start talking to me?" Birkin asked as they sat down. 

"What do you mean?" asked Wesker. "When we met or earlier?" 

"Earlier," Birkin said. "You must have noticed that I didn't apologize this time." 

"Ah, so you did that deliberately." Wesker reached over and swatted Birkin's forehead. "You little jerk." 

"I'm a scientist, I tend to test things," Birkin defended himself. "Besides, I'm always the one to go running to you, so I decided to see what happened if I didn't. While you didn't apologize...you did end the argument within the day." Birkin scribbled a few things down on his notepad distantly. "...I suppose...you...really do need me." 

"Stop saying that," Wesker said, irritated. 

"It must be true. Otherwise, you wouldn't care if I were speaking to you or not," Birkin said. "You would have ignored me, and we'd still be not speaking right now." 

"Ugh...do you ever stop being scientific?" groaned Wesker. 

"No." Birkin straightened his large lab coat. "I can't help it." 

"Well, I suppose that's what it takes to be Umbrella's best," Wesker said. "Eh, Birkin?" 

Wesker reached across the table and kissed him. 

Unbeknownst to them, old Wesley was watching them from the second floor of the dining hall. He narrowed his eyes. So, their rivalry could not be fueled to the point of hatred, he realized. But it didn't matter. With the Antartica facility Umbrella's sole focus, what Birkin and Wesker did or did not accomplish was of no importance. 

**End of Chapter Two**


	3. Chapter 3

  
Author's Notes These stories always go by too quickly. Chapter 3 already

* * *

**Chapter Three: Alexia**

**July 26, 1981**

Time passsed very quickly in the Arklay Mountains. Winter melted away into spring, and spring blazed into summer. Birkin threw himself into his work more so than even before. With the new phase of their research, Phase 2, he was even more ambitious than before. And naturally, his work progressed rapidly. Wesker followed him along in the research, often marveling to himself at how brilliant Birkin was. For the past six months, life was a steady, progressive cycle and all was peaceful within the mansion. 

However, beneath the serene exterior, trouble was brewing within the staff. They had begun to speak more and more of Umbrella's new Antartica facility. Most of them did not even bother hiding their desire to be transfered there. Birkin and Wesker did their best to ignore these comments, but they were growing increasingly annoying. 

This day had been one of the more annoying days so far. It was steaming hot in the mansion due to a problem with the air conditioning system. The staff had been yapping about the Ashfords and the new facility all day during research. To top it all off, there was a contamination emergency that had to be dealt with. It was a welcome relief that evening when Wesker and Birkin finally got to their room after dinner. 

Wesker burst into the room first, his eyes furious beneath his sunglasses. He tore off his lab coat and flung it aside. Then, he flopped down into a chair and exhaled, turning his face to the ceiling. Birkin timidly stepped into the room next, shutting the door behind him. He ran a hand through his golden hair, exhaling. He looked very tired, and his eyes had purple circles around them. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and sat down on his bed. There was a silence as the two calmed their nerves. 

Wesker took off his shades now and set them down on the table. He rubbed his eyes and then looked over at William. "You look like hell," he told him. 

"You don't look so great yourself," Birkin replied wearily. He lay back on his bed. "What a day..." 

"I hate summer," Wesker said. 

"Why?" Birkin sat up. "It's the only time when your sunglasses don't look ridiculously out of place." 

Wesker looked at him. Then, he flung a notepad at Birkin. Birkin hit it away, laughing. 

"Goddamn insane facility," Wesker said. 

"Don't say that!" Birkin exclaimed. "The security only failed this one time. Besides, despite the stupid old staff and occasional problems...this is _our_ facility." 

Wesker looked at him. "...That's true." 

Birkin smiled and then sat down at his desk. To Wesker's surprise, he turned on his computer. 

"What are you _doing_?" 

"It's been too hectic to do any good research all day, so I'm going to work a little now that I have a chance," Birkin explained. He grabbed a thermose of coffee, opened it, and took a sip. 

"You're crazy." Wesker shook his head. 

"I know." 

Wesker decided to leave him. He went to take a shower. By the time he came out, Birkin was tapping away happily on his computer. Drying his hair with a towel, Wesker walked over to him. 

"Still working?" 

"Of course," Birkin said. "There is some sequencing that has to be worked out still..." He frowned. "I could have gotten this all done earlier if those morons hadn't kept distracting me." 

"Well, now I'm distracting you." 

Wesker reached down and lifted Birkin out of his chair. Birkin's eyes widened. Wesker ignored his surprise and picked him up in his arms. 

"Wesker! Stop it!" William protested, kicking his long legs. "I have work to do! We can't waste any more time..." 

"All we have is time, Birkin," Wesker told him. "And for all the attention you're giving your precious diseases, you haven't looked once at me for weeks." 

"I've been busy! You know that!" Birkin said, struggling. "Wesker, put me down!" 

Birkin kept wriggling, managing to get his feet almost on the floor. However, Wesker was much stronger, and only carried him over to his bed. There, he lay Birkin down and climbed over him. Birkin kept on fussing about how the virus' coding needed to be recorded more efficiently and how he couldn't stop working just because Wesker wanted him to and how a good scientist was never distracted for any reason. Wesker stared down at him for a moment, and then shushed him with a kiss. 

"Mmmppphhh...Wesker!" Birkin gasped. "Wesker, stop! I'm serious! I have to work more on--" 

"Which you will do tomorrow, William," Wesker said patronizingly. "Now." He swatted Birkin's thigh. "Turn yourself over." 

Birkin looked up at Wesker with a troubled look. His face was flushed and his hair was on end. "Wesker...please..." he begged one last time. 

"You like making things harder for yourself, don't you?" Wesker said flatly. "Fine." 

Wesker rolled William onto his stomach and held him there. Then, he reached behind the pillow and pulled out a rope he'd put there. Ignoring Birkin's protest "Wesker, no! Wesker, please!", Wesker tied Birkin's arms together at the wrist. 

"I suppose 'no' doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" Birkin sighed, lying helpless on his stomach. He fidgeted a little, but could not get away. "Wesker, these ropes hurt..." 

"It's your own fault for being so difficult." Wesker smirked down at him, pleased at the sight. "Besides, aren't you so cute that way?" 

Wesker bit William's ear. Birkin winced and squirmed as the older man pressed against him. Wesker pushed his lab coat and shirt up, running his tongue down Birkin's bare back. William shivered. 

"Wesker..." 

"Be quiet." 

Wesker pulled Birkin's lab coat over Birkin's face. Now unable to even see anything, Birkin decided to give up; Wesker was obviously not planning on letting him go. Even now, Birkin could feel his pants being unbuckled. Wesker was the same in bed as he was any place else, cold and precise. He motions were brisk and rough. He would stare down at Birkin with those hard blue eyes, observing and enjoying every move, every squeal, every flinch. 

"Relax, little scientist," Wesker said soothingly, his hands traveling over Birkin's bare legs and back. "It's nothing we haven't done before..." 

"Ngh...Wesker!" Birkin yelped as their bodies met. "At least untie me!" 

"Not a chance," Wesker said, his grip on Birkin's waist tightening. "You'll run back to your work if I do." 

"Aghhh! Wesker!" Birkin shrieked. "I won't! I really won't!" 

Wesker just smirked down at him, those icy eyes sadistically satisfied. Birkin yelped more, but Wesker ignored it. He took his time, enjoying Birkin's smooth, young body and the warmth of the night. 

When he finally released Birkin, the young man was trembling. Wesker lifted the lab coat off his head. Birkin's blond hair was standing up, and he gasped for a breath. He rolled onto his side, wincing and looking up at Wesker. Wesker smiled at him. 

"Now you really look like hell," Wesker laughed. He brought Birkin into his arms, kissing him a few times. Then, he untied the ropes around Birkin's wrists. 

"So cruel," Birkin said, rubbing his wrists. 

"I know it." Wesker lay Birkin down again, on his back this time. "Do you mind?" 

"Would you care if I did?" 

"No." 

Birkin just laughed. "Well, I don't mind." He reached up and ran his hand over Wesker's face. "But tomorrow, I must work more. Can't be on top without working for it..." 

Wesker chuckled. "I know. And the same is true for sex." 

"I didn't mean--" 

Wesker buried his face in Birkin's neck, licking him. Birkin just laughed and shook his head. Science or sex...ah well, it didn't really matter. Everything was muddled up in this mansion.

* * *

**July 27, 1981**

The next morning, Wesker awoke early. The sun was just lighting the blue sky outside, and the mansion was silent. The air conditioning systems were working again, and there was a blanket of coolness over the room. Beside Wesker, Birkin was sleeping away peacefully. 

Wesker looked down at him. His face softened a little, and he stroked Birkin's cheek. Birkin, alert as always, stirred but did not wake. 

Wesker stretched a little. There was an ominous feeling in the air. Everything seemed fine, but something was a little off. He climbed out of bed and pulled his pants and shirt on. For a moment, he stood listening. There was only silence. 

Wesker sat down in bed again, and then lay down. There was no reason to be up so early, even with a heavy feeling hanging overhead. Wesker played with Birkin's golden hair a little, and eventually fell asleep again. 

Some hours passed. It was Birkin who woke up next. He bounced out of bed at 7:00, completely ready for a day of research and testing. He took a very rushed shower, put on fresh clothes, and then threw his beloved lab coat back on. After combing his hair with his fingers, he dragged a grumbling Wesker out of bed. 

"Come on, come _on_!" he rushed Wesker as the older man got dressed. "We're starting more important stuff today, and I'm delayed thanks to you and your 'fun' last night." 

"You love it," Wesker told him, giving him a swat on the back of the head. 

"That's beside the point." 

Wesker finished dressing. "All right. Let's go." 

Birkin practically ran out; Wesker followed along coolly behind. They walked their daily walk down the mansion's halls and then to the first floor. There, Wesker inquired about lunch, but Birkin just headed towards the basement. He said they could eat later. Wesker was starving, but followed along. Birkin's enthuisiasm was encouraging. 

In the basement, Birkin and Wesker walked in on a huddled group of staff members. They were all talking in hushed, excited voices. Birkin was about to charge through them, but Wesker grabbed him by the back of his lab coat. Birkin looked at him questioningly. Wesker motioned for him to be quiet. 

"Did you hear?" one staffer was saying. "Finally! The Ashfords are returning to glory!" 

"It's wonderful, just wonderful," said an older researcher. "Now our company will see some real progress." 

"Oh, how I wish I was in Antartica now," sighed another older man. 

Wesker stepped forward. "Well, you're not," he said with a deep frown. "If you like, I can turn the air conditioning up, and you can pretend you are." 

The staff all turned to him. They looked absolutely hateful. Discontent was rampanant in their eyes. Even after two years, the staff had not been able to accept young Wesker and William as their superiors. From day to day, they lamented that their first boss, Edward Ashford, was deceased. 

Now, the old staffers dispersed, grumbling among themselves. Satsified, Wesker and Birkin went on. They came to the lab. Furthering their annoyance, Wesley was there, along with some more old researchers. 

Birkin and Wesker ignored him. Well, Birkin did; Wesker kept an eye on the old man, who was acting quite smug again. Some time passed between examining samples and writing notes. 

"Ughhh!" Birkin groaned suddenly, jumping away from the microscope. 

They all turned to him. 

"Who keeps exposing these samples to the atmosphere!" Birkin asked furiously, grabbing the sample with a cloth. "For the love of...Do you all want to be zombies, you _idiots_!" 

Wesker stifled a laugh. Birkin rarely got so angry. 

"Well, I doubt _you_ doublechecked everything last night," one of the old researchers told Birkin. "You and Wesker both were in such a hurry to get to your rooms for God knows what reason." 

"We wanted to get back to our rooms to escape _your_ stupidity," Birkin said nastily. He cleaned up the defective sample and threw it into the waste deposit. Then, he hurried to wash his hands. "I don't know why I don't have you all mistaken for test subjects and then request a new team..." 

"I don't know why we're here instead of in Antartica," the researcher grumbled. 

"Ah, yes, Antartica," Wesley spoke up now, his tone odd. "If only Alexia were here..." 

"Who?" asked Wesker. 

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Wesley asked. His eyes flickered strangely in the light. "Today a girl was assigned to head the research at the Antartica facility. A very young girl. Umbrella's youngest employee ever." 

At these words, Birkin twitched. He turned on Wesley quickly. The youth's blue eyes were hard with a look Wesker had never seen before. 

"What did you say?" he asked tensely. 

"Haven't heard the details yet, have you?" Wesley said icily. "Alexia Ashford is Edward Ashford's most promising descendant. She's a prodigy. Only _ten years old_...and already heading the research in the Antartica facility." 

Birkin's eyes went blank. 

"Oh, shut up," Wesker said, stepping forward. "The Ashford family has produced nothing for years. So, they hired some little brat to head up the research halfway across the world. Who cares? Just because she got some job based on her name doesn't mean she'll do anything useful." 

"We shall see," was all Wesley said. He knew he'd already said enough. Not needed, he went to the other connected room of the laboratory. 

"What an idiot," Wesker said, shaking his head. He turned to Birkin. "Hey. Let's go on." 

But Birkin was silent. He stood still, staring blankly. Then, Wesker saw his chest and shoulders heaving. His blue eyes began to tremble with rage. Wesker suddenly felt that ominous sensation again. 

"Birkin?" 

"..." 

"William?" 

"..." 

"Will?" 

When Birkin didn't respond a third time, Wesker began to grow uneasy. Something had left Birkin; he looked empty. Never before had he been unresponsive and so deflated. Why was he reacting so dramatically? Did Alexia matter so much to him? The Ashfords had always been held above both their heads, so why was he choosing now to be bothered by it? 

"Birkin!" Wesker shouted. Not waiting for a reply, he grabbed William by the shoulders and turned him to face him. Birkin suddenly looked very young...very young and very tired. He turned his eyes to Wesker slowly, but his face remained in a state of shock. 

"What's wrong, Birkin?" Wesker asked in concern. "Who cares about this new employee, this silly little Alexia?" 

At the name, Birkin twitched again. Rage lit his eyes. 

"Alexia..." He tore out of Wesker's arms and walked past him. "Alexia..." A scowl lined his face. "How dare they..." 

"How dare who do what?" Wesker asked, perplexed. 

"How dare they insult me!" William shouted furiously. He ran his arm through the supplies on the desk, knocking everything to the floor. "How dare they mock me!" he raged over the sound of shattering glass. "A ten...a ten year old..." He kicked at the desks. "HOW DARE THEY!" 

Wesker blinked. "...Will..." 

"They told me _I_ was the best!" Birkin yelled. His face was red, and his eyes were hazed with an insane anger. "I AM the best! And...and..." The anger gave way to a sudden depression. He leaned on the desk as if he'd been punched in the gut. "And...I...ah..." 

"Birkin, calm down," Wesker told him. "It's not for all that." 

"...I can't work in these conditions," Birkin said weakly. 

And, stumbling and holding his head, he left the lab without doing any more research. It was something he had not done once since they'd come to the mansion. Birkin leaving early? Wesker felt like he was dreaming...or having a nightmare. 

Once the initial shock wore off, Wesker left after Birkin. In the hall, one staffer told him that Birkin was in the bathroom. Wesker went in. He found Birkin throwing up. 

"Birkin, what happened?" he asked, running to him. "Is it the virus? Are you infected?" 

Birkin lifted his face. He looked pale and there was an odd grin on his face. "Would it matter if I was?" he asked. "Our virus is no good anyway..." 

"Why are you saying such things?" Wesker asked. 

"But of course it's no good," Birkin went on. He turned on the water in the sink. "It's not like we're Ashfords or anything..." 

"You really are sick over this," Wesker observed, watching Birkin wash his mouth out. 

"No...I'm just sick." Birkin finished rinsing his mouth and stood straight. "...Sick and diseased and...imperfect..." 

He stared into the mirror for a moment and then stumbled. Wesker caught him. William clung to him. 

"Ten years old!" Birkin mourned. "Ten years old...They're...laughing...laughing at me...the pseudo prodigy..." 

Wesker exhaled. This was just what he needed, Birkin breaking down. Nevertheless, Wesker was patient. He picked William up in his arms and carried him out of the bathroom. Birkin kept his eyes down, looking at no one. 

"They've made a fool out of me," Birkin muttered, his grip on Wesker's shirt tightening. "A goddamn fool." He buried his face in the shirt. 

"You're no one's fool, Birkin." Wesker ran his hand through Birkin's hair. "You're brilliant, didn't I tell you that a million times by now? Haven't _you_ told _me_ a million times?" 

"What an idiot...how could you stand me?" Birkin shook his head. 

"I only tolerated such annoying bragging...because your confidence is well deserved," Wesker said. "Don't be stupid, Birkin. You're a genius." 

Birkin just shook his head. "..." 

"Never mind." Wesker forced himself to cuddle Birkin more, despite being a bit fed up. "Just rest for now, then. You look like all this has just but killed you." 

"It might as well have killed me," Birkin said bitterly. 

Wesker did not reply. He was not sure yet how to deal with Birkin's new depression. He hoped it was only a passing mood. For now, he carried Birkin up to their room and placed him on his bed. Birkin lay there quietly, staring at the ceiling with clouded eyes. 

"...This is the first time I've seen you doing absolutely nothing," Wesker commented after some minutes had passed. 

Birkin just rolled over on his bed. Wesked exhaled and sat on the bed beside him. He removed Birkin's shoes for him and then smoothed back his disheveled hair. Still, the young man did not respond. 

"...Don't worry, William," Wesker said softly. "Just take it easy today, then. You'll get over it soon, won't you?" Wesker stroked Birkin's back. "Yeah, you'll get over it." 

Wesker was not only speaking for Birkin's sake. He needed to convince himself that Birkin would be okay. If he wasn't, Wesker didn't know what he'd do. As usual, Wesker was forced to admit that he would be lost without Birkin. But that was not the only reason he was worried. If Birkin remained like this...what would Spencer do to him?

* * *

Despite the risk of displeasing Spencer, Birkin remained in his state of depression. For the remainder of that day, he did not eat or speak. He would fall in and out of sleep, ignoring Wesker completely. Wesker tried to bring him back to normal, but eventually gave up at night and went to sleep himself. 

The next day proved to be the same. Wesker worriedly covered up for Birkin, telling the staff that he had fallen ill. It was a laughable excuse in the middle of summer, and he knew it. However, he had no choice. 

The third day since Birkin had heard of Alexia came, **July 29, 1981**. Wesker awoke early and shook Birkin awake. Birkin looked at him with those awfuly, broken blue eyes, and then rolled over again. 

"Birkin, get up," Wesker told him, shaking him. "Get up, Birkin." 

"..." 

"Goddamnit." Wesker pulled William into a sitting position. "Look at you! You're pale from starvation! You haven't eaten in two days, Will! Why are you reacting so severely?" 

Birkin just lowered his eyes. He looked very weak, near the point of passing out. Wesker stood and pulled him to his feet. 

"You're being stupid!" Wesker yelled at him. "You'd kill yourself over some blow to your enormous ego?" 

"Leave me alone," Birkin said, pulling away from Wesker. "It's none of your concern." 

"None of my concern? How can you say that?" Wesker grabbed Birkin by the arm. "Do you think I'm sleeping with you because it's good my health? I..." Wesker broke off abruptly, not liking what would come next. 

"You what?" Birkin asked nastily. "You _care_ for me? Save it." He tugged his arm out of Wesker's grasp. "Just shut the hell up and stay away from me." 

"No. No! Not for the third day in a row, Birkin." Wesker grabbed Birkin by both arms this time. "You're going to eat. I'm not letting you rot your brilliant mind away over some little girl." 

"I'm not brilliant," muttered Birkin. 

"Ugh." 

Birkin struggled, but Wesker was able to wrestle him out of the room. He kept a firm grip on the man's thin arms and wrangled him all the way to the dining room. There, he sat Birkin down on a chair and held him there while he yelled to the staff for food. 

"Stop it!" Birkin seethed. "Let go of me!" 

"Shut up!" Wesker finally roared at him. He slammed Birkin up and down in the chair, hard. "Stay there and shut the hell up!" 

Birkin was livid, but he stopped trying to escape. Wesker sat in a chair beside him, but did not take his hand off Birkin's arm. Food was served quickly, probably because the staff had sensed how on edge Wesker was. 

"Now." Wesker speared a piece of food with a fork and held it out to Birkin. "Eat. Now." 

"Wesker, don't treat me like a baby," William said heatedly. 

"EAT IT!" 

Birkin snatched the fork and ate the food. Realizing how starving he was, Birkin's face softened a little. He got a grasp on the fork and began to eat normally. 

"I told you you were starving," Wesker told him. "For a genius, you can be really stupid sometimes." 

"...I know." 

"Don't say that!" Wesker snapped. "Argue it or something like you always do." 

"What would the point in that be?" Birkin just shook his head, continuing to eat. "Just leave me alone today, Wesker, please." 

"Suit yourself." Wesker just shrugged. He figured that with Birkin eating, his depression was fading. Hopefully, he'd be back to normal soon. 

But since nothing ever went too well in the mansion, Wesley came into the hall soon. Wesker's jaw tensed. Birkin was too busy eating to notice right away. 

"Wesker. Birkin." Wesley sat down near them. "We've been waiting for you two. Glad to see you're feeling better, William." 

Birkin looked at him, nodded, and resumed eating. 

"We're going to need instructions on what to do with the test subjects next," Wesley said. "We've recorded much of the data, and we have a batch of new test subjects. Birkin, we need to know what to do with them." 

"Test the virus again," Birkin said carelessly. 

Wesker looked at him. "What?" 

"Test them again," Birkin repeated. 

"Birkin, why?" Wesker asked. 

"It is the safest step," Wesley said, standing. 

"The safest step," Birkin echoed to Wesker. 

Wesker didn't want to go any further in front of Wesley, so he stayed quiet. Birkin nodded to Wesley and Wesley left. 

"Birkin, why did you do that?" Wesker persisted when they were alone. 

"The safest step," Birkin repeated again. 

"You never do anything safely," Wesker pointed out. "You don't bother with unimportant steps like retesting. You usually just enhance the virus and then test it. You never, **never** test the same virus twice." 

"Things change." 

"Things don't change! Not with you." Wesker grabbed Birkin by the front of his lab coat. "You're just changing because of that damn Alexia." 

Birkin's eyes flashed at the mere mention of her name. He pulled away from Wesker, staring down silently. Then, he resumed eating. 

"Why are you being so weak?" Wesker asked wearily. 

"..." 

Wesker exhaled and leaned his head down. Birkin finished eating soon. Then, he sat back for a moment, thinking. 

"I have an idea," he said suddenly. "Let's go to the bar!" 

"This early?" Wesker gave him a look. "You never drink, Birkin." 

"And we never have any fun!" Birkin said, standing up excitedly. "Come on, Wesker. Let's take a day off. Let's have _fun_!" 

"It's not time for..." 

Birkin grabbed Wesker's hand and tugged him. "What does it matter how early it is?" he asked. "We have time, don't we? You told me that before, remember? That all we have is time..." 

"Yeah, but..." 

"Then, let's go!" Birkin tugged Wesker's arm more. "Come on." 

Wesker stood and followed him slowly. Birkin happily dragged him through the door near the fireplace. They went down a short hall and took the first door on the left. They came into the mansion's bar, a room neither visited too frequently. Birkin released Wesker and went over to the drinks. 

"What sounds good?" He picked up a couple of bottles. "Whiskey? Scotch?" He looked across the wide array of drinks. "And we have...wine and champagne...or good old beer. Ha ha." 

"Will, it's not a good idea to start drinking," Wesker said. He sat on a stool at the bar, rubbing his temples. "Can't you just drown your sorrows in your work like always? What's so different about this Alexia? Is it because she's ten? Is that it? She beat your records?" 

Birkin's smile froze. He popped open a bottle of something. "This smells nice," he said. "Let's try some of this. Oh, it's strong too, how interesting." 

"Birkin, don't," Wesker told him. 

But Birkin was not listening. He put his lips to the bottle and took a long drink. Wesker looked away, hating to see his friend in such a pathetic state. 

Birkin finally put the bottle down, coughing. He blinked his eyes a few times, looking surprised. Then, he laughed. 

"Ha ha...ha ha ha! Wow!" he exclaimed. "That _is_ strong! Ha ha...here! Have some!" 

He pushed the bottle towards Wesker. 

"I don't want any, Birkin," Wesker said. "This is ridiculous. Don't you realize how idiotic and common you're being?" 

"I'm just having fun," Birkin said stupidly. "Drink with me, Wesker. Drink with me." 

Wesker grabbed him by the tie. "Only if you promise me to stop this moronic act tomorrow." 

"Don't be lame." Birkin struggled a little. "I'll do whatever I want. You can drink with me or not, I'll still do whatever I see fit." 

"So, you'll continue making an ass of yourself?" Wesker growled. 

"Hmph." Birkin just took another sip from the bottle, coughed a little. " You're just being boring." 

Wesker raised his hand, ready to smack Birkin. "And you're just being an..." But he couldn't hit him. He lowered his hand, exhaled, and released Birkin's tie. "You're being foolish," he said more calmly. 

"It's my facility, I can do whatever I wish," Birkin said childishly. 

"It's _our_ facility and _our_ research!" Wesker snapped. 

Birkin narrowed his eyes at him. "Then so it is. Good. So, _you_ do your part, and _you_ enhance the virus. I've done everything up to this point nearly solely on my own. But you're right, it is ours. So you do the bulk of the research from here on and leave me the hell alone!" 

Birkin then drunkenly stumbed out from behind the bar counter and left the room. Wesker's fist tightened. Birkin was deteriorating rapidly, and he could do nothing to stop it. If this continued... 

**End of Chapter Three**


	4. Chapter 4

  
Author's Notes Ha ha. Poor old Birkin.

* * *

**Chapter Four: **

**August 27, 1981**

A month had passed since news of Alexia's recruitment had destroyed Birkin. Birkin's depression proved to be much more than a passing phase; as the weeks passed, he sank more and more into his own world of self pity. He took to drinking his days away, and sleeping restlessly at night. He kept sending the research in circles, achieving absolutely nothing. Wesker tried his best to help Birkin, but there was nothing he could say or do to bring the old Birkin back. It was as if he'd died from the defeat. 

On this day, Birkin would not even get out of bed. Wesker took his place in the lab along with the older researchers, and did his best to make progress. However, the lack of Birkin's genius was well noticed. 

"Where is young William?" Wesley asked meanly. He knew very well why Birkin had been missing so frequently. 

"He is...ill," Wesker lied. 

"Heh," Wesley scoffed, "do you expect me to believe that? What is it, Wesker, pneumonia in the middle of August? Tsk, tsk. If you plan to cover for him, I would at least expect you to do a better job of it." 

Wesker frowned. 

"We have produced nothing for one month, a record for us," Wesley went on. "Word has reached Mr. Spencer by now, I'm sure." 

Wesker clenched his fists. "Given your rat-like personality, I'm sure of it too." 

"He doesn't need to hear it from me," Wesley said. "It's obvious that little William has become incompetent. Is it as obvious, I wonder, what Spencer _does_ to the incompetent..." 

Wesker slammed his fists on the desk and turned on Wesley. 

"This facility needs Birkin!" he declared. "He's too much a genius to be wasted that way!" 

"A useless genius is still useless," Wesley said coldly. "And Mr. Spencer does not keeping around useless people." 

"**Nothing** is going to happen to Birkin," Wesker said firmly. 

"How can you be sure?" Wesley asked. "Hm?" 

Wesker stared at him. It was true. He had not even seen Spencer for months. He had no idea what the man was planning. This ignorance had been bothering him for a while, but now it seemed deadly. Spencer could make any move, and Wesker would have no chance of preventing it. He could be planning to kill Birkin right now, and Wesker wouldn't know until...it was too late. 

Wesker turned from Wesley and ran out of the lab. He kept running until he was outside the mansion. On the grounds, he ignored questions and got into a company vehicle. He started the car and began the long drive down the Arklay Mountains. 

As he drove, Wesker knew he would regret this one day. However, he did not see himself having any other choice. There was no way he could sit by doing nothing and let Birkin be killed. Not because he cared about Birkin, he told himself, but because if Birkin died he would be rendered useless and probably be killed himself. There was no other way. He had to see Spencer. 

A pit formed in Wesker's stomach. The last thing he wanted was to go running back to Spencer; by choice, he'd never see the detestable man again. Spencer was the only one who had ever taken him for a fool, the only one who had ever taken advantage of him. He was the only one who demanded respect from Wesker, and who Wesker was forced to respect. Spencer also was, Wesker had always suspected, the one who was playing everyone like marionettes. There was no doubting that Spencer would force Wesker into submission again if Wesker tried to convince him to let Birkin live. 

Wesker's eyes went blank. What it would probably come down to would be...having to sleep with Spencer again to save Birkin. Wesker hit the steering wheel in anger. He would hate both Birkin and Spencer for it forever...but it was just what had to be done. Birkin couldn't die just yet...he had to live no matter...no matter what the cost. 

"Damn you, Birkin," Wesker said softly. "Goddamn you."

* * *

Though the drive was long, it ended all too soon. Before he knew it, Wesker had reached Umbrella's main office in Racoon City. He got out of his car and stared up at the building. It was one of the small mid-western town's tallest and most impressive buildings. Spencer had nearly the entire town employed there. People were always buzzing back and forth from the building. Wesker scowled at their ignorance; Spencer was only using them all. 

Then again, perhaps it was better to be used and be oblivious than to have to choose to be a puppet. Right now, Wesker wished he was one of those dumb citizens. But no, he was intelligent, and had no choice but to know and accept this. He knew what was coming, and had to force himself to walk towards that looming building. 

Nevertheless, he managed. He charged into the building. He was asked if he had an appointment, but he barged ahead regardless. Security ran after him, but he did not stop until he reached the top floor. There, he burst into Spencer's office loudly. 

Spencer was sitting at his desk with his back to everyone as usual. His silver hair gleamed in the small slits of sunlight coming in through the blinds. He smiled a little as he heard the door open, for he knew exactly who had come in. After a moment, he turned in his chair. 

Wesker stood confrontationally, though there was a nervous energy about him. He wore his usual black clothes and heavy boots, and still had his lab coat on. Beneath his sunglasses, his eyes were slightly worried. He was flanked by several security guards and a secretary. 

"Sir, he just burst in!" the secretary explained. "We couldn't--" 

"Yes, it's quite all right. I can handle this one," Spencer told them. He motioned for them to leave, and they did. Then, he turned his cold light eyes on Wesker. "Albert...it has been what seems like an eternity. How are you?" 

"Don't worry about me, Spencer," Wesker said. "You know I can take care of myself." 

"Granted." Spencer nodded. "And how is young William?" 

"...I believe you can answer that for yourself," Wesker said quietly. 

"You know me well by now, Albert," Spencer observed. "May I ask what brought you here, then?" 

"Birkin is the reason I'm here," Wesker said. "What are your plans for him?" 

"Who can say?" Spencer shrugged. "Though it has reached my ears that he has become useless." 

"You would kill him?" Wesker asked. 

Spencer stood and faced the window, his back to Wesker. "This is a pharmaceutical company, Wesker, not a mafia. We don't kill our workers." 

"Don't play innocent with me!" Wesker snapped. "You kill anyone who gets in your way or hampers your progress!" 

Spencer turned to him. "You keep your voice down," he said sternly. "You answer to me, not vice versa. Don't you dare forget that." 

"...Sorry." Wesker forced himself to calm down. "But I need to know that you will let Birkin live." 

"Why should I guarentee you his life?" Spencer asked. 

"I...would..." Wesker drew a breath. "I will do anything, but I need your word." 

"Heh. Is that what you think, Wesker?" Spencer asked. "You sell your body and I pay any price for it?" He waved a hand. "Why should I accept your offer? There are plenty of others I could have, many more beautiful than you." 

Wesker's eyes widened. 

"But." Spencer looked at Wesker. "Because we are old friends, Albert, I will consider the situation and your offer. Although..." Spencer walked up to Wesker and touched his face. "...you may want to give me a sample of exactly what you would do if I accept." 

Wesker stepped back. Spencer was not going to make this easy, he saw. Still, he had to remain strong. 

"No." Wesker shook his head. "Not until you agree to let Birkin live." 

"Hn. You are no fool, Albert." Spencer nodded. "I will get back to you on this matter in a day or so." 

"In a day!" 

"No need to raise your voice," Spencer said in agravation. "Surely, you understand how busy I am." 

"...I...I will get Birkin to work again," Wesker said. "I will." 

Spencer just nodded and sat behind his desk again. 

"There will be no reason to kill him, you'll see," Wesker said. "I'll see to it." 

With that, he left the office in a hurry. Alone, Spencer chuckled. Wesker was playing his role perfectly. Of course, Spencer had no intention of killing Birkin just yet, but Wesker did not need to be aware of that. This was the perfect tool to get Wesker exactly where Spencer wanted him at the moment.

* * *

Driving back up to the mansion was torturous. Wesker's mind was in a million different places. Part of him was thinking up all the different ways Spencer could just have Birkin eliminated. After all, Spencer did not always act on his word. He could have Birkin killed before he even got back to Wesker. In fact, Birkon could be dead by the time Wesker got back to the mansion. And all because of his stupid hyper-sensitivity. In the back of his mind, Wesker dreaded what would happen if Spencer did let Birkin live. It would be a big favor for Spencer to give Wesker, which meant Spencer would own his soul forever. 

Wesker banged the steering wheel with his fist. He hated Birkin. None of this would be happening if Birkin hadn't reacted so stupidly. Wesker had accepted his place as second best when he'd met Birkin, why couldn't Birkin do the same? Birkin didn't even have to face Alexia, she was all the way in Antartica. 

Wesker drove into the mansion. He barely parked the car before he jumped out. A few people called to him, trying to reprimand him for leaving without notice, but he ignored them. He ran into the mansion and up the stairs. He got to the room he shared with Birkin and barged in. 

Birkin was lying in bed still. He rolled over lazily and looked up at Wesker. Wesker was glaring at him through his black sunglasses. 

"Al..." Birkin said weakly. He blinked his tired eyes. "Why are you looking at me like--" 

"You have to work!" Wesker roared at him. "Birkin! Don't you get it! They're going to kill you, you idiot!" 

"...it doesn't matter," Birkin said, turning his face to the window. 

"IT MATTERS!" Wesker grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him into a sitting position. "It matters! Without you, I'm worthless! The research is worthless! Everyone here is dead! Don't you get that!" 

"...doesn't matter," Birkin repeated distantly. 

"It matters!" Wesker pulled back and slapped Birkin across the face. "It matters, goddamn you!" 

Birkin's eyes widened. He appeared to be at the breaking point. His eyes shook with sadness and anger, and his body was also trembling. He looked at Wesker with an eerie look. 

"Stop treating me...like...a child!" Birkin suddenly shouted. 

He flew at Wesker, catching him on the jaw with a punch. The two fell off the bed and onto the floor. Birkin attempted to hit Wesker again, but Wesker wrestled him to the floor and sat on top of him. Birkin glared insanely at him. 

"How dare you hit me," Wesker said furiously. He shook Birkin. "How dare you!" 

"Why? Because I'm the weak one and you're the strong one?" Birkin asked angrily. "Because you're two years older? I don't care who you are, Wesker! Don't _you_ dare treat _me_ like a child!" 

"Don't I dare? Birkin, you little..." Wesker clenched his fist. "Don't you understand anything? I'm trying to help you. You have to work!" 

"I told you I can't!" Birkin yelled at him. 

"You can, Birkin!" Wesker shook him. "You just don't want to..." 

"That's irrelevent. You can't force me to work, anyway." 

"Oh can't I?" Wesker challenged him grimly. 

He wrestled Birkin until he had slammed the younger man onto his stomach. Then, he began tugging Birkin's pants down. 

"Wh-what? You plan to rape me?" Birkin asked, slightly nervous. "Don't waste your time. That may have worked for Spencer when he raped you, but it won't have any effect on me. In fact, go right ahead. You've practically been doing so for the past two years." 

Wesker just looked at him. What Birkin did not know was that Wesker wanted to hurt him. And when Wesker wanted someone hurt, they got hurt. He finished tugging Birkin's pants off and pushed his lab coat out of the way. Then, he began unfastening his own belt. 

"I don't care what you say, Birkin," Wesker told him. "You **will** go back to work, one way or another." 

"I told you that I won't," Birkin said stubbornly, trying to twist his head around to look at Wesker. "What are you doing, anyway? Get the hell off of me." 

"What I'm trying to do is convince you to work." Wesker snapped his folded belt. "No matter what that may take." 

"Hmph. I told you, I can't work." 

No sooner had he spoken the words than something fast and excrutiatingly hot had stricken his backside. Birkin's eyes widened and he winced visibly. Pain began to set in. 

"Wh...wha...Wesker, what..." Birkin turned half of himself around, blinking. Wesker was holding him down, and in his hand was his thick leather belt. Birkin drew a breath. "Wesker!" 

Wesker turned his face. "William, I...don't want to hurt you." 

Birkin crumbled, burying his face in his arms. Wesker climbed off of him and sat in a slump beside him, saying nothing. What could he do or say? He had for a moment...almost become exactly like Spencer. Beating Birkin with his belt...it would have been exactly what Spencer had done to him. No. He could not let himself fall into that pattern. He wouldn't hurt William that way, not like that... 

Wesker finally straightened up and pulled Birkin into his arms. He felt very frail, and his crying did not help matters. Wesker ran a hand through Birkin's fine blond hair and sighed. "William, ah...why do you have to be so pitiful?" 

"I'm not," sniffed Birkin. He wiped his eyes on his lab coat sleeves. "It's not my fault." 

"Yes, yes it is..." Wesker touched his face. "Hey, stop crying. I didn't do half of what I had planned to." 

"You don't understand!" Birkin sobbed. "You don't understand! I'm nothing, I...I'm not good at anything! I never was!" 

"Of course you were!" Wesker told him. "How can you deny the facts? You've taken the virus into such stages..." 

Birkin shook his head. "No, no, it's nothing...nothing..." 

"Birkin..." 

William burst into the sobs he'd kept inside for so long, tears soaking through Wesker's soft black shirt. He cried loudly, childishly, repeating over and over that he was no good at anything and that it wasn't fair and that he had been living a lie. Wesker stroked his hair and kissed him, but it had no effect on him. He was utterly miserable, inconsolable. 

"You poor...spoiled little..." Wesker sighed. "William, you are the most brilliant and beautiful child I have ever know. You don't need a family lineage or to have started younger. Nothing will come of Alexia's research, you'll see. In the end, you **will** win if you just keep trying." 

"I've seen reports of her research," sniffled Birkin. "She's done things I won't accomplish for years! She's smarter than me." 

"Oh who cares?" Wesker asked in exasperation. "There is probably someone out there smarter than her. There are no ultimates in this world, in life. Surely you didn't think you would always be the best in everything?" 

Birkin crumbled again. "Waaaa!" 

"For God's Sake, be a man, Birkin!" Wesker snapped. "You aren't a little kid anymore. You can't just fold at the first sign of competition. Then everyone who does look down on you will be right! Do you understand?" 

Birkin just shook his head. "I can't. I can't. I'm not good enough. I know I'm not, Wesker." 

"What will I tell Spencer?" Wesker asked angrily. "Eh? Tell me what I'm going to say to protect you! Better yet, why don't you guess what I'll have to do to save you!" He shook him. "He wants me to be his victim again, Birkin! I spoke with him this morning, did you know that?" 

"I don't care about Spencer," Birkin scoffed. "He's your problem, not mine." 

"IT'S YOUR FAULT!" Wesker roared at him. Not knowing quite what to do, he pushed Birkin down across his knees. "Act like a child, and I'll treat you like one." 

"Stop it!" Birkin shrieked. "Wesker, stop it! I'm not acting like a child!" 

"Oh yes you are. Let's see if you keep on your little tantrum after this." 

Birkin gave a wordless cry as Wesker slapped his hand down on his still bared behind. He cried even harder, but Wesker did not seem to care. He gave William a long series of firm, swift spanks as William struggled and sobbed. 

"Being the best takes hard work! You won't be anything if you buckle under pressure!" Wesker scolded him. "You should be ashamed of yourself! After all your years of bragging and pride, to give in to some little girl's competition now! Act your age, William!" 

"Ow! Wesker!" Birkin yelped. "Stop it! How dare you!" 

"How dare _you_?" Wesker retorted, imprinting his palm on Birkin's fleshy bottom again. "I'm going through hell trying to keep you alive, and do you even give a damn! NO! All you care about is yourself! You goddamn brat!" 

"I'm sorry, Wesker," Birkin whimpered. "Ow! Aoooww! I'll try to work! I will!" 

Wesker did not stop the spanking just yet. "Are you sure about that?" he asked. "Absolutely sure?" 

"Ouch! Yes!" Birkin yelled desperately. "_Yes_! Just let me go!" 

"Hmph. I hope that teaches you something." Wesker patted Birkin's behind lightly. "Sit up." 

William sat up shakily, jilted and smarting. He sniffed and gave Wesker a completely defeated look, wiping his eyes on his lab coat sleeves. "You are stronger," he said tearfully. "I may be smarter, but it doesn't matter because I'll never have that strength. I don't have any strength. I've always been small and weak, insignificant. I thought my mind made up for that, but it doesn't." He threw his arms around Wesker. "That's why I love you! Together we have no missing links. I love your strength." 

Wesker held him close, pitying him. It must be awful to be a person trapped by their own insecurities, he thought. Birkin was crying so hard, his fragile heart broken...all because of one person besting him. One competition and he had fallen, confidence and everything else gone. It was not simply a tantrum, the problem went far deeper than that. 

Wesker kissed his forehead gently. "I love you, William," he said softly. "But I won't be Spencer's victim for you. Should he decide to dispose of you...you will be on your own. Do you understand?" 

Birkin nodded. "It's all right. I don't care." 

Wesker pulled Birkin's underwear and pants back up, straightened his lab coat out for him. He picked the thin young man up in his arms and carried him over to his bed. He sat down against the wall, thin Birkin bundled up in his arms like a doll, and stared out the window. 

"I'm disgusting, aren't I?" Birkin cried. 

"...You could never disgust me, Birkin," Wesker lied convincingly. "I love you." 

"You haven't said that to me before," William said with a sad smile. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I've been impossible, I know, but you don't understand me fully. You don't know what it's like to be held up on a pedestal, everyone making you believe you are the best, that you're perfect...and then you come crashing down and everyone is laughing at you, thinking you're a fool..." 

"Who cares what other people think?" 

"I care," Birkin said. "It's not just you, everyone thinks I'm some spoiled little brat that's been backhanded, and they're all so amused. They're laughing at me. I know it!" 

"Sh, shhh, easy," Wesker hushed him. "I know what you're saying, but you can't let that bother you so much. You can't be so fragile in this world, William. You have to prove them wrong, fight them." 

"They're not wrong, they're right," William mourned. "Look at me. I am weak and laughable. I'm pathetic." 

"I didn't spank you because I thought you're pathetic," Wesker informed him. "I was merely trying to get through to you. I don't think you're pathetic. I simply don't want you wasting yourself like this, depressed and careless. You're stronger than you think, William, and devoted." 

William shook his head. "No. No, I'm not." 

Wesker sighed. "I obviously can't convince you," he said wearily. "I'll leave you alone. You'll snap out of it eventually. I know you will. In the meantime...I'll be here for you." 

William hugged him. "Thank you, Wesker." 

Wesker cast his eyes to the ceiling and rubbed his back. "It'll be okay, William. I promise." 

* * *

"Isn't that sweet?" Spencer remarked as he watched the two on his monitors from Racoon City. "Pity that Wesker isn't so stupid anymore. He loves him, but he will not sacrifice himself for him. I should have known." 

Alone in his office, Spencer finally shut off his monitors. All was quiet. He sat in his dark office, thinking for a long moment. 

He could, of course, continue to needle Wesker. He could hold William's life over his head as a test. But if Wesker refused to give in, he would lose a valuable scientist. Besides, Wesker was hardly worth the effort. He was so in love with Birkin that Spencer doubted he would have time to try and figure him out. 

"I think I'll give him his happy ending, at least for a while," Spencer said to himself. "Birkin will keep him on his toes, the rest is insignificant. Umbrella is doing bigger, better things." He pressed a button on his phone. "Alicia, go ahead and book that flight to Antartica. I'll be leaving tonight." 

* * *

**August 28, 1981**

William awoke on Wesker's chest, as usual. He smiled, enjoying the warm sunshine and the scent of his lover. The spanking had somehow been the summation of their rivalry; it was over now, and instead of competing with Wesker he could simply enjoy the man's strength. He no longer wished it were his own or tried to claim some of it for himself, he just rode along with it. It was refreshing, actually, to not have to try and be something he was not. 

"I wish I had been born a man like you," he whispered to the sleeping man. "But this is as close as I shall ever come." 

Wesker opened his eyes and frowned. "Don't say that. Jeez, creepy kid." 

Birkin blushed. "I thought you were sleeping..." 

Wesker sat up, stretching. "You're getting out of bed today, right?" he asked through a yawn. "Or do I have to spank you again?" 

"I'll get up," Birkin said meekly. He climbed out of bed and fetched some clean clothes. "But...do I have to work today? I'm so tired." 

"Yes, you have to," Wesker said strictly. "Even if you don't do as well as before, I won't have you lazing about our room doing nothing." 

"Who do you think you are?" grumbled Birkin. "My father?" 

Wesker gripped his shoulder. "Your strength." 

William looked up at him in surprise. His eyes softened and he kissed Wesker. "Thank you." He embraced the older man. "Thank you, Wesker." 

Wesker allowed it for a moment, and then gently pulled William off. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get too sentimental." He handed Birkin his lab coat. "Let's get going." 

Birkin smiled and put it on. Wesker took him by the hand and led him out of the room. They continued down to the dining hall, where they were served breakfast. Birkin ate ravenously for the first time in days. Wesker watched him, pleased. 

Everything was fine...until they were joined by Wesley. Wesker ignored him completely, but was deeply annoyed. Birkin eyed him hesitantly, fear in his youthful eyes. 

"Well, nice to see you up and about again, William," Wesley said after a silence. "I was beginning to think our bright young scientist had become a victim of his own disease. But I suppose you aren't that careless, are you?" 

Birkin lifted his eyes to Wesker for defense, but Wesker just gave him a meaningful look. The youth shifted. "No." 

"No, of course not," Wesley said patronizingly. "You may be young, but you are not _that_ young. I mean, it isn't as if you are ten years old." 

Birkin twitched, but retained his self control. He went on eating, eyes on the table. Wesker was beginning to feel his blood boil. 

"Of course, if you were younger, we might respect you more," Wesley went on. "A teenage prodigy is one thing, but a child one is quite another. You are as good as the age you begin your career, you know. Of course...you don't have quite the lineage for it, after all." 

Birkin cried out as if he'd been struck. He grasped his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. "Shut up!" he shouted hoarsely. "Shut up! Shut up!" 

Wesker jumped to his feet. "You leave him alone!" he yelled at the old man. "Leave him alone before I kill you, you fucking bastard!" 

"My! I've never seen you so emotional," Wesley said. "I was only trying to encourage your precious little baby. You know, Sir Spencer does hate uselesness." 

"He is not useless!" Wesker yelled. He took his gun from his belt and pointed it at Wesley. "One more word against him, and I swear to God, I will blow that filthy old head off your shoulders." 

Wesley stood, a smug smile on his lips. "Oh, I cannot wait to speak with Spencer about this. He will have your hide, Wesker, and your little pet's as well." 

A voice spoke from the other end of the dining hall. "Spencer is gone, Smithe." 

Everyone looked over, except for Birkin, who was holding his head and rocking back and forth. The president of the facility had entered the room. He was a quiet man that Wesker and Birkin normally ignored. Now, Wesker couldn't have been happier to see him. 

"What did you say?" Wesley asked. 

"He left for Antartica last night," the president told them. "He will be pooling his resources and overseeing the projects there." 

"He doesn't even care about my work anymore!" wailed Birkin. 

Wesker gave him a smack on the shoulder. "Shut up, William!" 

"What!" Wesley exclaimed. "No, that cannot be right. He said I could accompany him there, should he go. He never said he was leaving--" 

"He left, Wesley," the president said coolly. "I have full power over this facility and the researchers, along with Birkin and Wesker." 

Wesley's mouth hung ajar soundlessly. He looked at Wesker and then at Birkin. Without a single word, he rushed from the room. Wesker holstered his gun and sat down as the president approached him. 

"Is that true?" he asked. "Spencer is gone?" 

The president nodded. "Yes. And I know that you've been wondering, but he left no, er...'special orders' concerning you or William." 

Wesker shut his eyes in relief. "Finally...he's really gone." He took off his shades and turned to the president. "Look, I know we've been pretty cold to you the past years, but...it's time everyone grew up and started working together." 

The president nodded and extended his hand. "I look forward to it." 

Wesker shook his hand and gave him an appreciative smile. "Thanks." 

The president briefly put a hand on Birkin's shoulder and then exited again. Wesker turned his attention to his 'pet'. Birkin was still holding his head in his hands and rocking. 

"Hey, cheer up," Wesker told him. "With Spencer gone, your life isn't in danger anymore. We can both relax." 

"He doesn't even think I'm important enough to kill!" whined Birkin. "After all this time, he just leaves! He doesn't care that I'm wasting his time and money. He doesn't care about anything here at all..." 

"William." Wesker gave him a look. "Shut up before you really annoy me." 

Birkin bit his bottom lip and leaned his head on a hand. He sulked on, but did not say anything else. Wesker smiled a little, satisfied that he was more docile. 

"Let's go to work," Wesker said once they were both done eating. He stood, but Birkin did not. Wesker leaned on the table over him. "Is there a problem?" 

"Why work? Spencer is gone anyway," William grumbled. His voice was very low, in hopes that Wesker might not fully understand what he was saying. "You don't have to worry about me dying anymore." 

"I'm not just worried about you dying, I'm worried about _you_," Wesker said. "Stand up." He waited. "...I won't ask you again, William." 

William stood. "Still treating me like a child," he complained. 

Wesker grabbed him by the back of his lab coat. "Still acting like one. Come on." 

Birkin came along sullenly. Wesker was nearly irked enough to flip him over and spank him again, but the news of Spencer's departure had put him in too good a mood. His annoying little friend would live, at least for a while. Wesker had never expected to feel this joyous over another person's life being saved...but it wasn't a bad feeling. He knew right then and there that William would always be the only person he ever allowed himself to love. 

* * *

There remained only one problem to be taken care of, and Wesker decided to take care of it right the next day, on **August 29, 1981**. The morning began like any other, with the sleepy young scientist on his chest and having to swat him awake. Breakfast came and went, and then the two went down to the laboratory. Birkin did meaningless work merely for the sake of keeping his bottom unmarked, and Wesker struggled to catch up to his research. Wesley was lingering around, but he was deathly quiet. Still, his silence was not enough for Wesker, not after he had continued to try and hurt poor William. 

Birkin got bored halfway through the day. He sat back in his chair, frustrated. He surveyed Wesker for a long moment before finally gathering the nerve to lie his way back to his room. "Wesker, I forgot something. I'll be back in a bit." 

Wesker knew it was a lie, but he'd been counting on Birkin leaving. "Yeah, sure," he said, pretending to be distracted by his work. "Don't be too long, though." 

Birkin stood, looking very sneaky and a bit fearful. "I won't." He hurried off. 

Wesker smiled, standing up. He looked over into the adjoining lab, where Wesley was working alone. The last problem... 

The sliding doors made a mechanical sound as they opened. Wesker stepped into the lab, behind Wesley. "You made a dire mistake, old man," he said. "You may scoff at my affair with Birkin, but I put my faith in him because he loves me. You put your faith completely in your decrepit old self and Spencer, who cares about nobody." 

Wesley turned to him. There was fear in his eyes, but he refused to let it show. "I will join Spencer in Antartica, he won't send me back," he said. "Now that you are too wrapped up in the brat to be a threat to him, he won't need me here." 

"He doesn't need you there, either," Wesker said. "Do you really think you're indespensible to him? No, you're wrong. Birkin is the one he chose not to kill, and you are the one he chose to leave behind. He knew what I'd do to you should you stay here, trying to tear apart William." 

"You won't do anything!" Wesley snapped. "Everyone would know my death is murder! You'd never get away with it." 

"Oh, don't be so naive," Wesker sneered. "We're scientists! Accidents can occur at any given moment, and even the tiniest one--" He brandished a syringe. "--can be so lethal." 

Wesley backed away from him. "No, Wesker, you...I know you! You wouldn't kill me over your weak little boyfriend! You're not the type!" 

"You never counted on my falling in love with him," Wesker said. "Hell, I don't blame you! It took me by surprise too. But I do love him...and for the first time in my life...I have someone I would kill for." 

Wesley backed up into a desk, bottles falling around him and shattering. "No, you--you can't! Don't be a fool! Love doesn't exist! We're scientists, damn it!" 

"There are unexplained variables even in our field, Wesley." Wesker closed in on him. "Sometimes they can be the strongest. But I don't have to tell you that. You'll see everything for yourself as your body rots away, dying from microscopic beings, mind going numb with discomfort and hunger...insatiable hunger and pain..." 

"WESKER!" 

Wesker threw the syringe so accurately that it punctured his neck. Then, he quickly pressed the Emergency lock down button and ran into the adjoining lab. Wesley tried to follow, but the doors to his room shut and locked. Red lights flashed and the alarm sounded. Wesker waited patiently for the security to arrive, watching Wesley pound the doors desperately. His mouth moved in screams that were locked out of Wesker's room. 

Wesker pressed the intercom button. "You could have just left us alone," he told Wesley, "but you were too jealous. All you saw was our youth, never our brilliance, never anything else. You stupid old researchers...mourning the loss of the Ashfords, wishing for days gone by. What did it all get you? NOTHING! All you accomplished was pissing me off." 

"Wesker!" Smithe gasped in the other room. "Wesker, you can't leave me! They'll use me for a test subject! I never meant anything by it! You--you of all people should understand! You hate being told what to do!" 

"If you had a problem with me, then you were free to attack me!" Wesker yelled into the intercom. "You had no right to take it out on William! He's fragile, you knew that! And what did you do? You took everything away from him! It could take him years to recover his confidence, if he ever does at all!" 

"Wesker, he's weak! He's not strong, like us! Forget that little sniveling brat!" 

"I am the only strong one here, you cowardly old man," Wesker scowled. "You went running to Spencer, trying to use Birkin, the weak one. Well, it worked. You finally got to me through him, and now look what it's gotten you." 

"Wesker!" 

"Enjoy your death, you old fool." 

Wesker removed his finger from the button and there was nothing but the sound of the alarms. The decontamination squad arrived soon, and Wesker informed them that there had been an accident in Wesley's room. They checked him briefly and then let him go, assuring him that Wesley would be kept in containment. Wesker did not let his satisfaction show, but he was overjoyed inside. The problems had ended. 

Wesker went upstairs to the rooms he shared with Birkin. To his lack of surprise, William was lying leisurely in bed. He sat up instantly when Wesker entered. 

"Wesker!" he exclaimed. "I, er, tripped and hurt my ankle, so I was just, um, sitting down for a second, and--I was going to come right back!" 

Wesker laughed and sat beside him on the bed. "It's okay. There was an accident in the lab anyway." 

"Oh my God!" William shouted. "Were there any contaminations?" 

"Just one." 

"Are you sure you're okay? Who was it?" 

"I'm fine." Wesker held Birkin's hands still. "Wesley was contaminated beyond hope, sadly." 

A smile slowly spread over Birkin's lips. "Wesley? My...what a shame." 

They both laughed, and Wesker pulled him into a kiss. "It's all going to be all right, just like I told you," he said. "You'll trust me from now on, right?" 

William nodded. "I've never mistrusted you. Wesker, you...you killed that man for me?" 

"Well, he was annoying the hell out of me, too." Wesker looked at him and finally gave up. "Yes, William. I killed him because he was hurting you. I'm sure everyone will figure that out in a day or two. No one will dare mention that bitch's name in front of you again, I'm sure of it." 

"No one's ever done anything for me like that," Birkin said softly. "No one has ever stood up for me, stood up to me...nothing. Just you." 

"Don't get mushy again," moaned Wesker. 

"No, I mean it," William insisted. "I know I said...love is just chemistry and illusion, but...but it's not. I..." His brows furrowed. "I love you. Just...everything about you...it's stronger than what I felt for even my family...which defies logic. We have no common blood to pull us together, but I love you more than anyone I've ever known. It's...unexplainable." 

Wesker laughed. "You have trouble admitting to something so unscientific, don't you?" 

Birkin nodded, still puzzling over it. 

"Don't think about it too much." Wesker kissed his forehead. "That's always been your problem, Birkin. You think too much." 

Birkin smirked. "I'll try not to." 

"I didn't mean in terms of work!" Wesker snapped. "You will go on working until you regain your passion for it. Don't argue with me; I know you'll get your old self back again someday. Until then, I'll push you along." 

"Yes, I think I'm going to need that," Birkin confessed. "You know, Wesley really was wrong. I believed him at first...that you needed me, but I didn't need you...but it wasn't true at all. It won't always be this way, I'm sure, but for now...we need each other." 

Wesker studied his handsome face. "Does that bother you?" 

"No, somehow it doesn't bother me at all," Birkin said nonchalantly. " I guess I really have learned a few lessons. One is that...it's refreshing to have someone you can rely on...and let yourself rely on them." 

"Don't get too used to it," Wesker cautioned. "One day you will have to rely on yourself again." 

"I know that. One day..." Birkin his head down on Wesker's lap, staring up at him. "It's funny, isn't it? I spent all that time rescuing you from Spencer, and now you've rescued me." 

"It's you and me, remember?" Wesker said, remembering the first day he'd told William those words. God, it seemed like a lifetime ago...Birkin had been sixteen, just a baby...and so cute...always so cute... 

Birkin grinned. "You and me...always." 

It was something neither one of them had come looking for; quite the opposite! They had been flown in to birth a bio-weapon, a virus capable of complete destruction, and through all the research and darkness...they had found love. Both had learned to help each other, trust one another. It was ironic, but not bitter at all. In fact, it made the entire thing more worthwhile. 

Maybe the residence was teeming with evil. Maybe darkness was being brewed, so to speak, by the two young geniuses. It did not matter to either one at all. Even Birkin, caught in the throws of depression, had no regrets. They were not normal, he knew that by now, and neither could have ever led a normal life. So they'd come here to work and they had found each other. Funny how such 'bright' feelings could form in such darkness. But then again, the greatest thing about human life was its resilience, and now Birkin realized that it was true...that resilience did indeed come from the mysterious connections humans formed with one another. Love, chemistry...whatever it was...it was nothing in the scientific world, but everything in that enigmatic realm of 'the soul'. Perhaps not being able to understand it...was what made it so great. In any case, this was one thing both Birkin and Wesker were happy to be defeated by. 

**

Fin

**


End file.
